Bedtime
by BattleandRomance
Summary: Johns trying to get to sleep and considers some of the things he had,what he now misses


I don't own Thunderbirds

John's in bed trying to sleep and considers some of the things he had, what he now misses

Bedtime

Face washed. Teeth brushed. Pyjamas on.

Bedtime

The time when we go to sleep and work through our troubles

That is if you can get to sleep

With the scant few hours I seem to get I often wonder.

Naturally I'm not a good sleeper. Never have been. I've put that down to be being a born worrier. Maybe that's what keeps me awake. Always worried about something. And with the worrying I often consider the problem and work out solutions. Admittedly my best ideas are formed when I'm between the sheets.

Could be my surroundings. Stuck up on Thunderbird 5 is an unnerving experience at the best of times. Meteorites, distress calls. Could be blown to oblivion while snuggled in the covers. Could miss a distress call. Maybe that's the source of my worry.

Under the plain duvet twisting and turning on the mattress finding a comfy position to lie in. As ever head on the pillow, arms wrapped around the corner of the duvet as if I'm trying to cling onto something vital. I once knew a girl who was studying psychology, more specifically forensic psychology. She'd probably tell me I was missing something and a whole lot more just by the way I ate my cornflakes. Not that I eat cornflakes on a regular basis, not much for breakfast; I prefer brunch then a late lunch.

The food up here is all liquid. With artificial gravity and million other advances they've made in space travel you'd think they'd improve the food. And in liquid form food just doesn't taste right. Even coffee suffers losing the rich smell of a freshly opened jar and the slightly bitter tang if you take small sips. It tastes like the cheap instant stuff you buy in a supermarket. And whilst I do prefer proper coffee beans and the like I have lived off flavoured instant coffee for a good few years. In University I had three close friends. One of them, the to be forensic psychologist loved coffee and always had jars of flavoured coffee on hand. The on campus coffee shop saw a great deal of business. When I got my degree I was given a 'Coffee Connoisseur' award by the coffee shop because I came so much.

My trio of friends is on my list of things I miss when I'm up here. I see them from time to time but not as often as I'd like. We all have our lives now. And that's one of the things I have on my 'Things I miss list'. I seriously doubt much will change in the immediate future. Alan will shirk his duties as much as possible. Scott will continue turning into Jeff Tracy. Virgil will sit at his piano composing. Gordon will swim and dive in the pool. And I'll sit up here in my cold metallic surroundings wishing the days away. I snuggled deeper for more warmth.

Realist by nature I see the hopelessness in many a good intentioned action. I see the futility in trying to save the world. The futility in this whole operation. Our jobs are never done, someone always needs saving. What happens when we can't save ourselves?

I miss intelligent conversations. Where I would have a challenge, a puzzle to solve, putting my point across to someone and making them doubt their own. NASA gave me the mental stimulation I needed. University was a constant challenge, always learning always working something out, writing essays. Even a fight over the quality of the latest music would result in a battle of wits often ending up at a topic a fair distance away from the original question. One argument over the best track on Maroon Five's 'Songs about Jane' album ended up on a debate over who would win in a fight Astronauts or Cavemen? I smiled and moved my legs closer to my torso

A question still unanswered. Caveman may have fire but astronauts have helmets. One good whack round the head with one of them would put someone out for the count.

That was one of many chats done after we'd all had four Bacardi breezers and a fair amount of rather strong black coffee. Uni certainly did wonders for my alcohol tolerance. Not in the least after a rather badly conceived trip to the University bar to celebrate end of exams when by midnight we were the only ones left standing. (Or more accurately staggering) I brought my arms and duvet under my chin.

I lived in the cheapest accommodation which gave me a small room with a bed, desk and chair. I had a small TV and a laptop computer which I did my homework on and a boom box which got me through many a dull evening. Turn up some Motorhead crack open some alcohol and here comes the fun. In our little quartet the to be lawyer had a mini fridge in his room in which we stored our alcohol. The to be Micro biologist had a toaster, great for midnight snacks, the dorm one in the shared kitchen old, rickety and always burnt the food and the to be forensic psychologist owned an extensive music collection or 'Rock and Metal through the ages' as it had everything from Thin Lizzy right up to the Lost Prophets. And myself, the to be astronomer had the boom box.

That's a million miles away now. The Lawyer is now a judge, a very well respected one as that. The Micro Biologist is top of her field. The forensic psychologist recently became supervisor of the nightshift in Boston's Crime Lab and its now one of the USA's best criminalist bureaus. And I could have been one of NASA's top scientists. But I resigned my commission to become International Rescues call boy. A decision I am slowly beginning to regret. Don't get me wrong I've had books published. I speak several languages. I've caught up on years of missed reading. But it lacks the fulfilment I need to continue doing the job with vigour. The micro biologist may be in line for a Nobel Prize. The Lawyer may make the Supreme Court. The forensic psychologist was selected to evaluate the mental condition of a recently deposed dictator in American custody. An unenviable task considering he had committed genocide. On that I snuggled yet deeper.

She's writing a paper on him as well. According to my latest letter from the Lawyer. She's probably written to me recently as well and filled it with her usual mix of cynicism and sarcasm giving me an abbreviated tale of what happened in that room. The micro biologist probably will have sent me a letter as well running through her latest work. The lawyer in his last letter told of how he was enjoying his work and how he kept being invited to posh do's and everyone wanting to be his friend.

My eyes are heavy now, I feel like I may doze off soon. Maybe I don't need much sleep because I work through all my problems before I fall asleep. Next time I'm on the ground I'm planning to visit all three. Listen to how great they're doing and me not being able to say anything because I'm sworn to secrecy. I'll tell them of my latest book. We'll eat, drink and be merry.

And then I'll return here to my solitary existence. The first few times here I was too much in awe to realise what I now miss. As time goes by I become more and more accustomed to it. Letting my dreams fade and living a hollow life.

I roll over and sigh

This is my existence.


End file.
